


a mark, a mission, a brand, a scar

by QuietlyImplode



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: But They Fight first, Hurt/Comfort, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov-centric, Non-Consensual Touching, Past Natasha Romanov/Alexei Shostakov | Alexi Shostakov - Freeform, Red Room (Marvel), Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark Friendship, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Torture, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, the avengers are crap at communicating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-24 20:41:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30078054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietlyImplode/pseuds/QuietlyImplode
Summary: Steve and Tony don’t know how to deal with all the secrets that Natasha holds.“I want Tony.” She tells Steve, quietly.Steve looks at her strangely, and sits too close to her; she inches away and repeats it, looking at him in the eyes.“I want Tony.”“Nat…” he lets the implication hang.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Comments: 25
Kudos: 65





	1. a mark

**Author's Note:**

> From the tumblr ask box of: “we need to change those bandages and get some food in you.” Could you do this with Tony and Nat friendship? :)“
> 
> I love Tony & Nat friendship so much. I want to write more of this, I want to expand on it, I just don’t know how yet (any ideas come chat on tumblr haha) so whilst I call this a one shot, it may turn into more, it’s just not there yet.

“I want Tony.” She tells Steve, quietly. 

Steve looks at her strangely, and sits too close to her; she inches away and repeats it, looking at him in the eyes.

“I want Tony.” 

“Nat…” he lets the implication hang. 

Clint’s not here. 

Bruce isn’t here. 

Steve and Tony are fighting about something inconsequential that’s resulted in bickering. And she needs help. It can’t be Steve. He’s too innocent of the world, thinks there’s still good in people. 

She wants Tony. 

Jaded and taciturn is what she needs, not optimistic and hopeful. 

“Let me help you?” Steve moves off her bed, turns his focus to the meal that she hasn’t touched, that Clint brought in before he left, 24 hours ago.

“Nat, you need to eat something.” 

She rolls her eyes. 

“Can you get him for me?” She asks, hating that her voice breaks. She sighs, feeling bad at the look that passes across Steve’s face. “It’s not you, honestly. It’s just something that I need Tony for.” 

Steve looks torn. She knows he doesn’t want to communicate with Tony, but for her, she’s sure Steve’ll do anything. 

Nodding slowly, Steve pulls out his phone, and sends a message.  
.

Tony comes.

Steve leaves as he arrives and they exchange a look.  
Tony looks away, and focuses his attention on Natasha. 

“Hey.” He says, taking her in. He’s used to her running circles around him, giving her quick smile or sharing banter. 

He’s not used to this despondency. 

He moves closer and watches as she shifts. He can tell that she immediately regrets the movement in the way that her eyes close and a shudder runs through her.  
The gash that runs from her lower back, over her backside and to her lower thigh is bandaged, and it needs to be changed. 

Clint changed it last time, and the doctor before that.  
Natasha can’t do alone. And she knows it. 

Tony eyes her. 

“My turn, huh?” He says flippantly. 

He uncovers her and makes her move into a standing position, trying to ignore the bruising that accompanies the line of stitches. He says nothing as quiet groan makes its way past her lips.

It’s slow moving and his patience is unnerving, and she almost wants him to quip, say something. He’s walking eggshells around her and it’s so infuriating. 

She rolls her eyes and holds onto the chair next to the bed, placing all her weight through one leg. 

“Thanks for helping,” she gets out. He can see her teeth biting into her lip, trying to mask the pain and fatigue this is causing.

“Yeah, well, we need to change these bandages and get some food into you.” He says as he helps her with the hospital gown, removing the blood stained gauze, and trying to focus on the task. Cringing slightly as he tries to preserve as much of her dignity as possible, he cleans the smaller scratches but can’t help but to ask. 

“Why me, Red? Why not Steve, or hell even one of the doctors I could get here in a heartbeat?” He gently cleaning away the dried blood methodically down her leg.

He can tell its painful in the way she tightens her grasp on the chair she’s holding, and she doesn’t answer.

He finishes with the wound, and helps her to lay down again. There’s sweat on her forehead and she’s breathing heavy, eyes not focusing, and it makes his stomach sink. In hindsight, he probably should have made her lay sideways in bed, but he wonders if that would have been worse for her, brought more attention to a loss of independence, of power. 

He’s got to think of a way to make this better, redesign something to make suffering less. Half the team heals quick, but Nat? Clint? Him? Mere mortals. And seeing it on Natasha is crushing. 

“You okay?” He asks quietly assessing her and wondering what he is going to tell Steve.

Her eyes are closed as she nods.

“I’ll be back with some food.” He tells her, eyeing the untouched food on the tray.

He starts to leave, and she shifts.

“Tony.” She says as he reaches the door. He looks back to clear, piercing eyes. “I trust you.” 

He has to duck his head at the intensity of the exchange. Nods as he leaves.  
.

He shuts the door and leans against it, head up; deep breaths. Just like Jarvis used to teach him. 

He sees Steve sitting on a stool down the hall, he’s only seen him look this small in pre-serum photos; and even then; it looks like the world is crushing him. 

“It’s done. She’s ok.” He calls, and then starts to walk in the opposite direction.

“Tony.” Steve jogs to him, and it may be his imagination but he can see the glisten of tears in his eyes. 

“Don’t take it personally. She just needed someone who is as mortal as she is.” 

Steve shakes his head. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I was just angry, I… I don’t know.” 

Steve looks down at his feet. 

Tony shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.” The tension alleviated somewhat. Steve steps closer. 

“Did she say anything?” 

Tony cocks his head. 

“About who that man is.. Was to her?” 

Tony looks down, not sure how to answer. He doesn’t want to betray Natasha’s confidences, especially after what she’s just said. 

“I think…” he pauses, unsure of how to word it. “I think that’s a conversation you need to have with her.” _I only know because I’ve researched everything there is to know about her and she knows that I know things I shouldn’t,_ is what he doesn’t add. 

Steve nods, looking crestfallen. 

“There’s a lot that she hasn’t told us, isn’t there?” Hurt passes over Steve’s face.

Tony sighs, a big long drawn out breath. 

“Look, I think you need to back off a little, her past is her own, and if she chooses to tell you about Shotstakov then that’s her choice. It’s not on us to ask her, or make her tell us, it’s not on us to be nosey. She’ll tell you if she wants you to know.” It comes out harsher than Tony expects and he takes a step forward, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Just, whatever you decide to confront her on, go easy, she’s..” he thinks before he finishes. “She’s hurt.” 

Tony walks off, not wanting to see his response or field any other questions. He needs to find some food that she’ll eat. He thinks to times when he’s been depressed or hurt, what he likes to eat, but nothing really comes to mind. What food says, _I’m sorry your husband from a previously life has come back, but you thought they were dead, and now you find out that was a manipulation from your former employers/captures and he tried to kill you?_

Tony runs his hand over his face, as he wanders into the kitchen, he rummages until he finds a range of foods that could be passable and heads back to offer them to her. 

He’s almost glad to see Steve hasn’t gone in. 

It’s like he’s in waiting mode, unable to decide on what to do next. 

“Decided against it?” He jibes, dropping some of the food in his arms onto Steve. 

Steve looks up and catches it it before it drops on the floor, and shakes his head. 

“Can I come in with you?” He asks, avoiding eye contact.

“Come on.” Tony says magnanimously, backing into the room, his arms still full of food.  
.


	2. a mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can all thank @alphaflyer for the continuation of this, which has now blown out to a four chapter fic. It’s been a labour of love exploring the relationships and the team not quite getting that they need to work together to protect each other.

When she sleeps, she dreams. She sees him above her, holding a shield. Russia’s answer to Captain America. She has flashes of him, of his face, training, standing together and receiving orders. 

They are not good dreams. When she wakes, she wakes in a cold sweat, body stiff, stitches pulling. She wants to go and get some water but the movement isn’t worth it. 

She pushes herself to go back to sleep, and the dreams get progressively worse, she’s flushed back into scenario training, torture really. And he’s the one that’s giving the orders. 

When she bolts upright, she cries out, all she can feel is pain through her leg and up her back. It takes her time to pull herself together, suck in a breath through her nose and out through her mouth. 

She hears the shuffle of feet, and realises that Tony is standing at the door. 

She’s mortified. Feels her face flush red. 

They stay in a holding pattern until he holds up water and she nods, a short duck of her head, inviting him in.  
He pulls the chair up next to her, the one Steve had been sitting hours before when sleep had seemed like a good idea.

He passes her the water uncapped and it helps to ground her more. She savours in the cool liquid passing down her throat and it helps to alleviate the acidic feeling of bile, and hands it back to him.

“Couldn’t sleep?” She asks, voice gravelly.

Tony grimaces and shakes his head. “Do I ever?”

What she doesn’t know, what she must never know is that he was sitting outside her door. He heard cries and he couldn’t stand not seeing her. 

She rubs her hand over her face. A movement, Tony thinks, she picked up from him. In the soft glow of the morning light, he can see the sheen of sweat line her hair.

Tony impulsively reaches across and grabs her hand, it’s perhaps the most aggressive display of affection that he’s done with her, and she recognises it for what it is. 

Fear. 

She goes with it, trying not to pull away, even though the touch is not what she wants. She has a life of experience with this. Unwanted touch has always been forced on her, but perhaps never as a kindly friend. 

They stay in this holding pattern, not talking, not moving until light is streaming into the room. His hand is sweating, and he lets go immediately when there’s a knock at the door. 

It’s Steve with breakfast on a tray. 

He nods at Tony and offers it to Natasha. 

She sighs. She appreciates their concern, she does, but it’s not needed. She can only take care of herself, not their feelings. 

Everything in her wants to run. 

She’s only here because she told Clint she would stay, that she wouldn’t lick her wounds in private and let them help. And then he’s kissed her in front of everyone, and left. 

She knows where he’s going. He’s off to find Alexei. 

Only he knows the extent of that particular betrayal and perhaps he could feel the madness descend as she fought the man she long thought dead, as he pierced her skin with a latajang, the moon like blade driving from from her back to thigh as she’d tried to twist away from him. The pain of the past mixing with the pain of the present. 

She doesn’t think she’s ever let out a scream like that, and judging from the way that Steve and Tony have been hovering… they’re just worried. 

She shakes her head to no one in particular.

“Have you heard from Clint?” Steve asks, tentatively.  
She looks over to where her phone sits on charge. 

“No.” She deadpans. 

Tony doesn’t say anything, but stands and gives her a look. 

She nods. 

Steve watches the exchange and raises an eyebrow.

“Can you pass me my phone?” Natasha asks.

Steve pulls it across, and Tony leaves the room.  
It’s been almost 36 hours. She’s concerned. 

Best case scenario, Clint is on his trail, and then what? Capture him? Kill him? She doesn’t really know what she wants as an outcome, but waiting has never been her strong suit. 

She decides it’s time to get out of this bed. She’s wallowed long enough. Self pity, Natasha decides, does not become her. 

“I know that look,” Steve admonishes, “you have to rest, you need to heal.”

Natasha doesn’t respond, types out 2 messages; pushes send and then swings her good leg over the side of the bed. Pushing up through her arm she feels the pull of pain, and schools her face, just like in the old days. 

Old patterns are easy to fall into, if the last 24 hours has taught her anything, she’s lost a lot of the old ways and it’s made her soft; vulnerable. 

Steve mutters something about getting back to bed, as she stands, but his disappointment washes over her, she doesn’t care. 

She wants to get to Clint and find Alexei. 

She wonders if there is anything in him that’s redeemable, but she thinks back to their wedding night and knows in her core being that he’s not. But perhaps, like her, he is a victim of circumstance. People like him, is it nature or nurture? The words capture or kill run on a loop in her head. 

Clint thinks he knows why Shatstakov is back, something to do with a weapon, vibranium weaponry something or other. 

What doesn’t make sense is why they’ve reactivated him now. Why him? Is it to get to her? Who’s reactivated him? Those cells should all be long since dead. 

She heads for the shower, slowly, testing movement and cataloguing what movements bring the most pain, turns it on. Her phone pings twice, she checks it, smiles and gets in the shower.  
.

Tony takes one look back at the room he’s just vacated, hears Steve tell Natasha to get back into bed and walks away shaking his head. He hopes she lets Steve dress the wound before she does whatever she’s planning to do. 

He sets up Jarvis on alerts with both voice and facial recognition for Shotstakov and calls Clint.

“Anything?” He asks, tentatively, moving to the garage. Clint sounds like he’s in a wind tunnel, as he confirms contact and tracing. 

“Mexico City,” Clint yells, “I’ll call you back.” 

Tony patches his phone through to the suit, red metal surrounding him, and pushes the recognition to focus in Mexico. Jarvis notifies him of a text and he smiles when he sees it’s from Natasha. 

He tucks the sentiment away and leaves.  
.

Steve waits until she’s out of the shower, wonders if he needs to intervene when she doesn’t emerge for half an hour. When she comes out, she’s dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, and she hands him thick stretchy tape and scissors. 

“Cover it for me?” She requests. 

“Take this,” he retorts, passing her two painkillers as he takes the scissors and tape from her hands. 

She rolls her eyes at him as he gives her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Just do it,” he asks, “if not for you, then do it for me?” 

Grabbing the water on the bedside table she downs the pain killers and opens her mouth. Steve huffs out a laugh, and tells her to turn around. Starting at her back he can smell the antiseptic that she must have poured on it. 

“It’s clean,” Natasha clarifies, “I just need you to put the tape on. I can’t reach.” 

He unwraps the tape and covers the wound, stops at her backside, as she bunches her shorts and underwear for him to get underneath and then pull it through.

“It’s looking better,” he comments as he finishes. It’s not, but it feels the right thing to say. The stitches and bruising actually seem worse today. Natasha shrugs, heads back into the bathroom and comes out dressed in jeans and a hoodie. 

“Where are you going?” Suspicion clouding his face.

Natasha isn’t sure whether to lie to him, and protect him, or tell him the truth and risk him tagging along. 

“Research.” She decides on.

“Want help?” He asks hopefully.

She shakes her head. “No thanks, I think I’d kinda like to be alone.” 

Steve stands with her. 

“Thanks though.”

“You’re going after them, aren’t you?” He says as they reach the door. “Who is he to you? Why risk it, Natasha? Why is this affecting you so much? Don’t lie. I can see it.”  
Natasha looks up at him. 

She so often underestimates him, it’s a bad habit. Her mouth makes a grimacing smile as she realises he knows Tony’s gone and Clint’s gone and that he’s the only one not in this dog fight. 

“Steve.” She lets the point hang, and then feels she needs to explain, if only a little. “He’s my past. Clint; and Tony to an extent knows what he is… was… to me. I can’t tell you, I don’t want to relive it, I don’t want to talk about it, I want it done…Do you understand?”

She can tell he doesn’t. 

Walking out, she leaves him standing at the door.  
.


	3. a brand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. So. Trigger warnings for the following:  
> torture (punching/blood/knives), non-con groping/touching (doesn't go further but it's there) and verbal taunting.   
> Pretty much, you can skip this chapter and go straight to the last one if you want to skip the above, the last chapter will only reference it briefly.

Clint groans. He’s fucked up. Knocked out, tied up and now being goaded by a crazy Russian. He laughs, he should be used to it with Natasha. 

Alexei punches him again.

“Where is she?” He grunts, laying two, three, four punches into Clint ribs.

Clint laughs again, swinging on the chain with the momentum of the punch, finding it easier to do that than breathe.

He can see the frustration on the man’s face, at his mockery. Clint knows that they’re somewhere in Mexico City, he also knows that both Tasha and Tony are coming, not for him necessarily, but to take out this substantial threat of a man. Internally, Clint sighs, may as well get information whilst he’s here, even at the expense of his body. 

“What do you want?” 

The man gives him a feral grin.

“You want to know why I’m back?”

He punches Clint square in the nose and pulls him close. 

“It was for vibranium; it’s now for her. Imagine the accolades when I return with both.” 

Clint can feel his head explode with pain, even though he feels one step removed from it all, his head spinning. 

Shotstakov pulls out a hunting knife, and points it at Clint. 

“You know,” he says, his Russian lilt taunting, as he draws the knife across Clint’s chest, “they pulled me from stasis. They told me she was a defector. I did not think they told the truth. They tell me, go and get the weapon. You are the only one who can. They say, she is lost to us. What they do not know, is that I do not belong to them any more. I do not follow their orders. I have been alone for a long time. Natalia is mine. I will return to glory.”

Clint can feel blood dripping down his chest, he concentrates hard on the man’s words, fury more alive in his gut than pain. 

“She will never be yours.” He grinds out,

The insanity in his eyes flashes and he laughs. 

“She was always mine. She has no place in this world without me. And look,” he holds up Clint’s phone, a text message flashing with Natasha’s name.

“Look how she comes home.” With that he knocks Clint out with a punch to the side of the head.

.

Tony flies to Mexico City, and asks Jarvis where Clint is. When Jarvis tells him he’s unsure, Tony’s stomach drops in concern. The weapon Shotstakov is after is a knife that cuts through anything. He’s called Fury who tells him there’s a cartel in Mexico that’s rumoured to have it, which would make sense with whereabouts of where Tony has the last coordinates of Clint. The warehouse district is vast and looks more like a ghost town than anything. 

Jarvis patches though a call from Steve, his face appearing on Tony’s holo. 

“Tony?” Tony stills. Concern for Steve now holds him, and as Steve continues, it grows for Natasha too. “Tony, she left.” Steve’s voice is strong but the angst underneath is present. 

“I think I pushed her too far. I asked. I asked too much and she left.” 

Tony groans. He warned him. He said. He said be careful. He considers now that leaving Steve out of this; wanting to take it all on themselves was a stupid idea. They were together and now they’re all alone. 

“How quickly can you get to Mexico City?” He asks.

Steve answers by moving towards the quinjets housed in the basement of the tower. 

.

Clint awakens to sounds of the door groaning open and a body being strung up next to him, chains like his being swung over the lower beams.

The grunt he hears is familiar, and he opens his eyes to Natasha’s closed ones. 

Alexei is cupping her face and revulsion runs through him on her behalf.

“Get away from her,” he slurs.

Alexei moves from Natasha and walks to Clint, “She is mine, Mr. Barton, you think otherwise?”

He laughs maniacally, “Just wait, when she wakes, she will agree with me, and if she does not, I have ways of making her.” 

Clint spits at him. 

“She’ll never be yours.” He repeats, Shotstakov meets him with with a series of punches that leaves them both out of breath. 

“You are wrong, Mr. Barton.” 

He leaves the warehouse with Clint swinging and bleeding. 

.

Natasha awakens to pain. Her shoulders pulling at their sockets, the familiar feeling of past electrocution making her body jolt at uneven intervals. There’s a sluggishness in her movement and a dryness in her mouth that feels like she’s been drugged. She can’t pinpoint what drug, and the memory of looking for Clint in a warehouse district from coordinates he sent her, led here, straight into the arms of..

Fuck.

“Nat..?” Her attention is drawn to her left, Clint is hanging, like she is, but he’s worse for wear. He’s been stripped down, his chest bare, bruises and cuts littering his skin. She looks down and realises that she has been too. Revulsion runs through her when she realises who’s done it. There’s a quiet voice in her mind that sobs violently at her predicament, her past crying at all she’s overcome to get to this point. Now being back in the clutches of her past is somewhat overwhelming. 

“Nat..?” Clint calls again, pulling her out of her grief. 

“You ok?” She asks, knowing he’s not, but wanting to get a feel of how he’s fairing.

“Peachy.” He replies. “You?”

“Stellar.” She bites out.

They door flings open.

“Natalia.” Comes a booming voice. “Natalia, _moya zhena._ ”

“Not your wife, Alexei.” She growls.

He laughs. It’s maniacal. 

“You’re mine.” 

Clint swears. “She’s doesn’t belong to anyone, you son of a bitch.” 

Alexei walks over and backhands him in the face. Hard. The sound reverberates in the room, and Natasha cringes. He walks slowly towards her. 

“You’re mine,” he says, and grabs her face. He moves to kiss her as she tries to pull her face away. He holds tight, she has to go with the movement, as the grasp loosens she headbutts him as hard as she can. 

Taking two steps back, he looks at her at first in shock, and then in anger. 

“He told me you might not see things my way.” He says, backhanding her like he did Clint and then grabs her again, pulling her face to the side he kisses her roughly, “but you will.”

.

Tony waits. He hates waiting. 

Clint’s missing, he can’t get in contact with Natasha and whilst alone these two things might be usual at any given day, today is not any given day. 

He calls Steve again, and realises his eta is less than five minutes, he tells him to cloak the jet and land near the tallest warehouse. 

Steve gets off the jet and concern is evident over his face. 

“Still can’t get ahold of them?” He asks. 

Tony shakes his head. 

“They’re here somewhere. Or there’s a lead here somewhere.” 

Steve defers to Tony, “This place is massive, any ideas on where to start?”

Tony nods. “I’ve had Jarvis scanning buildings using heat signatures. I’ve narrowed it down to four buildings.”

Tony signals for his suit to surround him again, and Steve pulls his shield off his back. “Do you want to split up?”

Shaking his head, Tony picks up Steve and flies him to the first building.

.

It’s not so much the hits, it’s not the burns, it’s not his hunting knife that pierces into her skin; it’s the taunting, it’s the touching. He cuts above her breast, shallow cuts that makes her bleed, and then wipes the blood away with his hand, it lingers too long. He repeats it again and again. 

He talks of the old days, things she doesn’t remember, things she does. She hopes that’s Clint’s not listening, he knows most things but there’s a level of embarrassment and shame that’s happening in this moment that makes her feel sick. She makes herself go elsewhere in her head, to the beach with Clint, the the rooftop with Tony, to late night talks with Steve. 

Distantly, she can hear Clint saying something quippy, and the retaliation he faces is a welcome reprieve from the focus on her. It’s only a matter of time before this escalates into something more. Death almost feels preferable if it comes to that. She pulls herself back the present to watch as Clint punched again and again. 

“Stop.” She murmurs.

Alexei smiles at her. 

“Or what, Natalia. If I stop, will you come with me? Will you be mine to save him?” 

Natasha feels the pain wash over her, wants to say something that will help, but she’s coming up blank. She wishes now that she hasn’t gone half cocked, followed Clint’s request to stay with the others, or at the very least bring them with her. 

Alexei focuses back on her, leaving Clint hanging and swinging from his chains, blood running down his chin. 

“Nat-aallllii-aaaa.” He twirls the knife, and circles around her, rips the tape from her back and pulls. She can’t help but scream as it pulls away from her skin, and with it the row of stitches. 

“Come with me, and all this will —-“

He’s cut off by repulser blasts coming through the wall, and all she sees is Tony and Steve standing together. She wants to pass out in relief. 

Alexei runs for the door, escaping quickly as Tony and Steve head for Natasha and Clint respectively. 

“Get him.” She tells them. 

Steve bolts after him. 

Tony deals the with chains, lowering her slowly to the floor. Her leg gives out under her, but Tony is there to catch her. 

“Get Clint,” she tells him pushing him away. 

She’s survived more than is, bullet wounds, burns, drugs; _this is nothing_ she tells herself as she heads for the door. Clint and Tony call after her, but she has momentum on her side. 

Moving as quick as she can, she heads after Steve, she hears them fighting. Weaponless, Natasha looks around, finds a room holding her two browning pistols and her clothing. Picking them up, she pulls her pants on, unable to stop herself crying out as she pulls them up. The tshirt is lost, but the hoodie she pulls over her head. She tucks one of the guns into her pants and extends her arm out, cuts on her chest weeping. 

She heads to the noise of fighting men, and finds Steve holding Alexei in a full nelson, arms twisted behind his back. Alexei grins when he sees her.

She shoots without hesitation, twice in the chest, once in the head; just like mother Russia taught her. 

Steve lets him go in shock. 

“Natasha!” 

She breathes heavily, adrenaline fading.

“Is he dead?” Everything is painful, her vision is blurring as she drops to her knees, gun still cocked. Steve checks and nods.

“He’s dead.”

Now safe, she fades, darkness enveloping her; she welcomes it.   
.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those who have subscribed, commented and kudosed, your support is <3.


	4. a scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout of Alexei's death and the coping skills of the avengers.  
> (They're not great coping skills but together they manage) and Tony and Nat build lightsabers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter. Brief discussion of what's occurred in other chapters and lots of conversations. I hope you've enjoyed this as much as I have. Come chat on tumblr (same name there as here) if you have any other ideas in fic writing!

She’s laid up in the hospital with Clint, more stitches between them than they care to count, but as far as hospital stays goes, it’s not bad; and it’s not too long before they’re out of there (with the promise of good behaviour).

She tries to avoid sleep, even making the resident insomniac worry. Tony clucks at her when he sees her nursing ice water, telltale signs of panic attacks and nightmares and sits with her telling her about his latest technology. Steve avoids her. Clint can get her to bed but once they’re there he always falls asleep before her and he never wakes with her next to him.

“I’m worried.” He tells her quietly one night. “You’re going to burn yourself out.”

She shakes her head and strokes his hair. Gently she traces the cuts over his eye, the bruises on his cheek. She did this to him. It was her past that put him in danger again.

“You can’t leave.” He says. 

She kisses his forehead and hums.

“No Natasha. This is serious. You can’t leave. Whatever is going on in your head, whatever thoughts are floating, you can’t leave.”

She kisses him again, it’s non committal in its action, and he pushes up to face her.

“Promise me.” He commands.

She looks at him, and all she sees is worry. 

“Mmm.” She says, and she’ll be true to her word but it doesn’t mean she won’t hide, he knows it’s how she processes things, being on her own is so much easier, but he’s also seen what happens when she’s alone too long, when she falls in the dark hole of depression and trauma and can’t see a way out. He knows the dangers of it, and to an extent she can see how he wants to negate it. 

The thing is, is that this is different. It’s her past, it’s Alexei, it’s trauma and everything the Red Room tried to beat out of her. Emotions have always been difficult and now, he’s asking her to negotiate them with the others. 

If there was ever a time to run, it’d be now. 

If it was just Clint, she thinks she could do it; stay and work through it, but she’s tired. So tired. It’s too much to work through it with everyone. 

“Ok?” Clint is hopeful. She can’t hold his hope. 

“Ok.” She say again, regretting it instantly and rolls away from him, hating him a little for giving her boundaries and ultimatums.

.

Clint runs; tries to burn his lungs and legs to get the thoughts out of his head. He’s gone five miles before he realises he’s been sprinting and he now feels like he’s hyperventilating. He slows to a jog, and then stops, walking with his hands holding onto his head. He has no idea where he is. 

“Hey.” 

Clint holds his hands in a fist before he realises it’s Steve. 

“You startled me.” He tells him, breathing hard. 

“Sorry. I saw you go for a run and was going to ask if I could come but you bolted before I could ask and so I thought I could catch up, and god you run fast.”

Clint smiles.

“Helps me get out of my head.” He explains.

“Natasha?” Steve asks.

Clint shrugs. 

“I don’t know. Yes. No. Maybe?” He shrugs again.

They walk together heading back to the compound.

Steve sighs. 

“Are you ok?” Clint asks, watching Steve’s body language. He looks sad, head bowed, stride matching Clint’s. 

“Yeah. No. I don’t know.” Steve looks up and catches 

Clint’s eye. They laugh.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Clint sighs. 

“I just..” Steve pauses. “I just don’t get her. She could have brought him to justice, she could have gotten more answers. I get being emotional but she shot him in my arms.” It comes out in a rush, and Clint can tell all the feelings he’s been holding onto are in this moment. He wants to be respectful, but he’s feeling defensive of Natasha and irritated at Steve’s sensibilities. 

“Do you know what he was doing to her, before you and Tony arrived?”

Steve shakes his head. 

“He was cutting into her, taunting her and then he turned on me, he asked her if she’d go with him he’d leave me alone. She probably would have done it, knowing her. I know you don’t know much about her past, I know it’s hard not to ask questions and ask things of her that she’s not ready to give, but you have to understand some things. We all have our own traumas - you can’t understand the depth of Natasha’s. You just can’t. I start to understand some of it, and I just drown in it, and I wonder how she isn’t. But she keeps pushing forward. If she made the decision to kill Alexei, it wasn’t a split second one. It was calculated and probably done to protect us. You don’t think that she wants to know who took him from stasis? Who reactivated him? You think that she wouldn’t want to take revenge on him? For torturing me? Her?” He pauses, make sure that Steve’s listening, hearing what he’s saying.

“Natasha never does anything without thinking about it from every angle. Have you ever played against her in chess?”

Steve shakes his head. 

“Don’t.” Clint advises. “I guess. Before judging try looking a bit closer at what might serve as a how and why Natasha behaves the way she does. The reasons would probably floor you.”

Steve nods slowly.

“She just scared me. Seeing her like that in such a dark place…”

Clint kicks the rocks in front of him. 

“Yeah I know. Believe me I know.”

Steve smiles at him kindly. 

“You’re pretty smart, you know?” 

Clint laughs.

“Don’t tell anyone.” 

.

“Need help?” 

Natasha walks through the doors to the workshop and watches as Tony startles violently.

“Once a spy..” he starts, and sees the look on her face and regrets the jibe.

“What are you doing?” She recovers quickly and schools her face, which would be easier, Tony supposes, if it wasn’t bruised. 

“Making a lightsaber.” He tells her. 

She huffs a laugh. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah.” He holds up the handle. “Look, it’s got a hand grip, controls, pommel cap; here’s the main hilt and the blade emitter.”

Natasha gives him a look, “but where are the kyber crystals?” 

Tony looks at her in shock. 

“How do you— You know what never mind. I don’t even care.” 

He keeps pottering around, passing her tools and parts and they work in silence until she’s caught up to his and they have two similar lightsabers. He admires their work and passes her a can of soft drink.

“Thanks.” 

She opens it and takes a sip as Tony perches next to her looking contemplative. 

“We shouldn’t have gone off by ourselves, should we?” 

Natasha gives him a strange look.

“ **You’re** admitting we are better as a team?” 

Tony smirks. “Don’t make me take it back.” He continues. “I might be stepping out but your “I don’t need anyone, I’ll just do it all myself” conditioning is shit.” 

Natasha laughs out loud, eyebrows raised. “ **You’re** telling me this?” 

“I’ve been to many therapists and Pepper is good at calling out my bullshit.”

“The woman is a saint.” She remarks, cradling the soda.

“Yeah. She is.”

“I get it.” Tony tells her, cryptically. 

“What’s that?”

“It’s survival. The “I’ll do it myself”, it shields you, right? The abuse, betrayal, hell the neglect from those that should have been there for you; no matter what the relationship, doing it yourself is easier than trusting someone else.” He pauses. “It doesn’t have to be like that. We’re here. You have us.” He lets the sentiment hang.

She can’t help but swipe at the tear that falls and pushes her tongue to the roof of her mouth.

“Stop being insightful,” she tells him. 

“Okay.” He fuses wires together and pushes the controls, the prototypes whir and light pushes through the blade emitter. Tony’s grin lights the room and Natasha can’t help but smile with him. It’s the least alone she’s felt all week.

.

It’s days before Steve gathers the courage to approach Natasha. She talks easily with Clint and sees her cooking with Tony. Steve watches and feels like an outsider whenever she’s around. He and Clint continue to go for runs and it gives him time to talk about some things, and check in with how Clint is going. Steve and Tony have a tentative understanding, they’ve talked more lately than they have in months. They talk more freely and it seems easier after traveling together (although Steve really doesn’t like being lifted up by the iron man suit) and working together to find Clint and Natasha. Clint encourages him to talk to Natasha, but she leaves the room when he enters it, walking gingerly away. They exchange fleeting looks and micro-expressions that Steve can’t quite place. He finally corners her in the gym; leaning against the doorway as she stretches.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” He asks, and then immediately knows it’s the wrong thing to say. Anger displays on her face.

“Sorry.” He says, almost immediately. “I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t know.. Nat. I..” 

“You think I’m impulsive and that I shouldn’t have killed him.” She surmises. 

“No.” He sighs. “Yes.” 

“Clint told you?” He asks. 

Natasha nods. 

“You’re at odds because it’s not what you would have done. You think there should have been another way.” 

Steve nods. Natasha stands, pulling herself up to her full height, weight even through both legs. She looks ready for a fight.

“I did what I know is right. You think it’s ruthless, merciless maybe, but it’s not that. It’s making hard decisions and seeing a clear chain of events; beginning to end and everything in between. It’s about seeing the solution not matter how hard that might be for others; for yourself.” She pauses. “I hate him. I hate him for what he did to me, now; then. You asked me, who he is, what he was to me. I wasn’t ready to answer then, I’m still not. But I’ve told Clint you can ask him. Ask him your questions and if you still have more you can come to me.” 

Steve sees this for what it is, a gift. He bows his head. 

“Nat…”

“You don’t need to say anything.” She walks past him, “just don’t judge me too harshly.”

He catches her arm, lightly, and lets it go as soon as he touches her.

“You can trust me,” he tells her. 

She ducks her head. “Okay.” It’s not convincing. 

“Wanna work out together tomorrow?” He asks, tentatively, desperately wanting their even footing back.

“I’d like that.” She smiles, but it doesn’t quiet reach her eyes.  
. 

It’s Tony who pulls them closer together. He sees the failings in the team and makes them eat meals together, Jarvis calling for anyone in the compound and shutting down technology until they come and eat.  
.

Steve follows suit and makes them all work out, even Tony; reasoning that even formula one drivers need to exercise. Whoever can make it, there’s no pressure, somehow they all seem to make it to at least one night during the week. Sometimes Pepper is there, laughing at Tony getting his ass handed to him by Clint. Sometimes Maria.  
.

Bruce returns from his retreat in Calcutta and Tony is ecstatic to have a science buddy back. Natasha gains strength and seemingly more moves when she spars. Clint loves watching her fight with Steve, her fluidity and ease of movement more beautiful than dancing.  
.

“Thank you.” She tells Clint one night, holding his hand. Clint snorts. 

“For what?” 

“Making me stay.” She rests her head in his shoulder. 

He kisses the top of her head. 

“Sometimes I have good ideas.” He whispers. 

“Mmm.” She says noncommittally.

“You ok?” He asks, kissing her fingers.

“Yeah. Tired.” 

He’s not sure if she’s avoiding conversation or actually tired, but he figures it’s a step up from where they were when she wasn’t sleeping at all. 

“Close your eyes,” he says quietly, hugging her close.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are love.


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